A Reddish Shade of Gold
by Marie E. Brooke
Summary: Clary has no interest whatsoever in Jace, the popular brother of her friend, Isabelle. She's much more interested in her pastels than boys. But when the annual school art competition pops up, Clary is forced to help him win. At first, she scorns his horrible art skills, but as time goes on, she realizes that he's not all that bad. AU, all human.
1. Isabelle Hates Target

**I was GOING to keep working on my Infernal Devices fic but something funny popped into my head, I wrote it down, and I found myself writing this.**

**OK, I just remembered what I wanted to say...*clears throat* THANK YOU guys so much for the 5 reviews and 2 favs (and over 100 views) I got for my other one-shot: _When Will and Jessamine Really Fight. _You have NO idea how happy I am to see I got ****that much less than twenty-four hours after publishing, which is why I'm gonna work on a TMI fic straightaway after this as a gift for you guys. It might take awhile, though, since school has just started and they're already assigning homework. :(**

**Also, Happy birthday, dear little sister! I know I'm publishing this a bit late, but at least I did it. Jeez. ;D My BD gift to you. (::)**

**Anyways, this story (if you want something less professional than the summary) is a TMI short story. Notice how I say short story, not one-shot. They are two totally different things. A short story is just shorter than most stories, which means about ten chapters max. Maybe I'll make it longer, depends.**

**Enjoy!**

**-Marie E. Brooke**

**Disclaimer: No, the world hasn't been destroyed, and I haven't magically turned into Cassandra Clare. I wish...**

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><p><strong>~A Reddish Shade of Gold~<strong>

_**A TMI fanfic by **_

**Marie E. Brooke**

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><p>Clary sagged against a rack of clothes, almost pushing it over, and dropped Isabelle's bags onto the ground. Earlier that day, Isabelle had wheedled her into taking a girl's day out with her. Clary, whose only friend was Simon (not counting Isabelle), had no idea what a girl's day was, so she agreed to go. She soon realized what it meant; endless hours of shopping and talking about boys, two things that Clary had absolute zero interest in. But it was too late and there was no backing out now. Well, her legs seemed to have a different idea. They slid out from under her and she collapsed onto the ground in a heap of exhaustion, bringing half the clothes rack down with her.<p>

"Clary!" squealed Isabelle, clutching a bright pink shopping bag filled with clothes. "Look what I got-at a bargain!" In Isabelle's rush, she accidentally stepped on the mound of chic clothes that was Clary. She groaned slightly as the heel of Isabelle's high-heeled boot squished onto her face. "Clary? Where are you? OMG!" Isabelle started to hyperventilate.

"I'm here," came Clary's muffled voice.

"Where?" Isabelle scanned her surroundings, but saw nothing red except an unfashionable red sweater. "OMG! Come back, Clary!" She bounced on the balls of her feet in agitation. "Clary!"

_Ow, ow, ow. "_I'm- Ouch! Dammit!- right under you," said Clary.

"Huh?" Isabelle stepped off the pile of clothes and, seeing a strand of red hair, quickly dug Clary out of Mount Fashionable. "OMG! You're safe! I'm so sorry! OMG!"

"That's the fourth time you've said 'OMG.'" deadpanned Clary, brushing dust off her faded blue T-shirt. "Also the fourth time you did the exact same thing to me," she added, cupping her red cheek with her hand.

"OMG! Um...sorry?" said Isabelle, unsure of what to say.

Clary facepalmed. "Whatever. Can we go now?" asked Clary hopefully.

Isabelle shot her the Look. Clary tried to avert her eyes but it was too late; the damage was done. Isabelle's Look was dangerous. It saw straight through your soul and dug out all your secrets for the public to see. With Isabelle's large, chocolate-brown eyes emphasized with black eyeliner and expertly brushed with mascara, the Look was executed without flaw. Isabelle rarely used it unless it was a real emergency. In this case, the emergency was a coupon for Victoria's Secret.

"Fine," grumbled Clary in defeat. "You win. Why can't you just go shopping with someone else and let this poor, exhausted coat-hanger have a break?"

Isabelle smiled triumphantly. "Because," she said, blowing a kiss to a boy who fainted at the sight of her eyes directed toward him, "I like to win. Besides, I rock at Bambi eyes."

"Some best friend. Taking advantage of her loyal other just so she can buy Target," murmured Clary resentfully under her breath. Isabelle heard her and chuckled.

"Silly Clary. Why would I want to shop at Target? Their clothes are so...plain," she said, spitting out the last word as if it were poison. She sounded like she wanted to say something much worse than simple. "Anyways, let's go to Victoria's Secret next!" She started to drag Clary towards Victoria's Secret. Clary started to protest but was quickly silenced with Isabelle's warning look. She settled for fuming under her breath about high heels as Isabelle continued to drag Clary.

To make a long story short, Clary ended up storming out of the mall with a bad bruise and temper.

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><p>Clary sighed as she dug into her pocket for her keys. How could she not find them? Before she could find them, though, the door swung open to reveal her brother leaning against the doorway.<p>

"How did you know I was here?" she asked flatly.

"I heard your yell of frustration when you couldn't find your keys," he said.

"You're creepy," she said in the same flat tone, and shoved past him into the house.

"Love you too!" he called out, chuckling at her retreating figure. She ignored him and stormed upstairs. Once she was in the sanctuary of her room, she started to get to work. Her backpack was slung on the back of her dark mahogany chair. With a sigh, Clary pulled out her ginormous pile of homework from her backpack. She cracked her knuckles and, with her pencil gripped tightly in her hand, charged. Bits of paper and eraser crumbs flew into the air as she worked furiously, her pencil darting across the once pristine and now crumbled white paper.

After about ten grumbles (screams) of annoyance and five broken pencils later, a satisfied Clary lay back in her chair, arms crossed behind her head. She had finally finished her English essay. She was feeling quite pleased with herself...until she remembered that she had a science project due in 2 days and 5 pages of math problems.

It took 5 more frustrated yells before Clary's mother, Jocelyn, began to get suspicious of the unnecessary noise coming from upstairs.

"Make sure to turn down the heat when the pot boils, OK? I'll be back in a minute to check on Clary," Jocelyn informed him, bustling up the stairs. Sebastian smirked, thinking about how much trouble Clary would be in. He heard a rattling sound, and turned around to see white foam frothing from the lid. He ran over at top speed and quickly tried to quell the bubbly explosion in the kitchen. He certainly wasn't smiling when burning water spilled on his hand and his shirt.

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><p>"Stupid math problem! Reveal your secrets!" she said angrily to the blank page in front of her. She soon realized that a) She sounded dorky because she quoted Simon and b) She sounded crazy because she was talking to her homework. Reluctantly, she picked up her pencil and pressed it to the page, imagining that the pencil was a sword and the paper her math teacher. She returned to her homework with a renewed vigor and finished it quickly (disregarding the fact she got most of them wrong).<p>

"Clary?" Jocelyn popped her head through the doorway, her long red hair barely brushing the floor. She seemed relieved that Clary was in one piece, but narrowed her eyes when they caught sight of the papery mess on Clary's desk. "Clary," said Jocelyn in a patronizing tone, "Why and when did the wastebasket explode?"

Clary gave her mother a sheepish look. "I may or may have not torn up my homework in frustration."

Jocelyn pointed at Clary with one manicured finger. "Spill. Now."

"Well, I was going shopping with Izzy-" started Clary.

"What were you doing shopping with Isabelle?" interrupted Jocelyn. "You don't even _like _shopping. You could have gone in the summer. School only started a week ago. Besides, if you developed some sort of love for shopping I didn't know of-wait, you _did! _It was those dastardly girls at your school, wasn't it? I knew that you should have done-"

"She gave me bambi eyes."

"Oh. Okay, then." Jocelyn blinked. She knew the power of bambi eyes as well as Clary did. "I understand. Good luck on the test tomorrow!" she called out as she clambered down the stairs. "_Wait-Sebastian, what in the name of God did you do!"_ Clary faintly heard Sebastian's protests and her mother's screams. She grinned like an idiot for a few seconds. Then she realized what Jocelyn had said. They had a test tomorrow? Oh well, she could worry about that later. There were more important matters to be settled.

"Isabelle. Get out from under my bed," said Clary, crouching down. A second later, a figure clad in fashionable black emerged from under the bed and rudely blew her nose on Clary's neon orange comforter. "Hey!" protested Clary.

"What?" said Isabelle, who was now rummaging through Clary's closet. She pulled out a pack of gummy worms and opened it. "Want one?" she asked as she started stuffing her face.

Clary rolled her eyes. "First you finish off my jumbo-pack of jellybeans, and now this," she said. "I thought you were on a diet."

"I still am," mumbled Isabelle as she continued to chow on Clary's food. "At school."

"You're like Simon," said Clary, shaking her head. "You guys both eat a lot and still manage not to be fat."

Isabelle immediately swallowed her candy. "I'm not!" she protested, putting the bag in its rightful place in the closet. It was no secret that Isabelle was jealous of Clary and Simon's relationship. Isabelle had even told Clary herself that she wished their relationship would be more like Clary's with Simon. Clary had told her - truthfully and bit harshly, she now thought- that their friendship could never be like that. Isabelle had sulked for the rest of the day and refused to talk to Clary, but the next day it was like nothing happened, although Isabelle now had a deep hatred of Simon and hated to be compared to him. "Ooh...is that pasta I smell?" asked Isabelle, hastily changing the subject. Clary decided to let her.

"Yeah. It's for dinner." Isabelle ran through her open bedroom door and made a beeline to the kitchen. "Hey-wait!" Clary tried to outrun her, but adding in the fact that Isabelle had longer legs and had a head start, it was pretty much pointless.

"Yeah, I was thinking that maybe we could invite your two brothers, Jace and Alec, as well?" Jocelyn was saying.

"What! No!" yelled Clary, choosing to burst into the kitchen at the moment. "If Jace, Alec and Sebastian are in the same room things _will_ get ugly."

"Yeah, Clary's right," said Isabelle, nodding. "Those three are trouble in caps."

"But it wouldn't be right to invite their sister and not them-"

"Who?"

Jace was leaning on the wall in all his blond glory. Behind him, Alec lurked, mostly in the shadows. The darkness of the shadows and his hair made his pale skin and bottle blue eyes stand out starkly in comparison.

"When did you get here?" asked Isabelle, regarding the boys with a cross look on her face.

"Seb over here invited us," said Jace, patting Sebastian's shoulder, who had just walked into the room. "Thanks, man. Is that pasta I smell?"

Alec, who was busy brooding and looking cool, looked up. "Pasta?" he asked, sniffing the air. "Oh, yeah. I am in." He scurried into the kitchen.

"It's just pasta," muttered Clary.

"Dinner's ready, children!" said Jocelyn, setting down five steaming plates of pasta coated with red sauce. Steam wafted through the air and clouded Clary's vision. She swatted at the air impatiently.

"You don't say 'just pasta' once you've tasted Izzy's horrible cooking," said Jace, picking up his fork and stabbing it into his food.

"What did you just say?" said Isabelle, pointing her plastic knife at Jace in a menacing way only Isabelle could achieve.

Jace averted eye contact. "Nothing. Anyways, where's weasel face?" he asked, directing the question at Clary.

"His name is Simon," said Clary calmly. "He was busy tonight. Why?"

"Probably off with his nerdy friends playing D&D or something," said Jace.

"Excuse me, but I am one of his so-called 'nerdy friends,'" said Clary, a hint of anger in her voice.

"Exactly, Mrs. Shorty." He winked at her. Clary started to turn a red the shade of her hair.

"Um, so how's art going?" said Isabelle in an attempt to defuse the tension between the two glaring teenagers.

Clary immediately brightened. "Oh, it's great. The teacher said I should sign up for the school art competition, which I've obviously done. I've got a bunch of sketches prepared, and I put together an art portfolio. I was thinking of selecting a few of my best works and combining them to make some sort of mash-up thing. Speaking of which, I was thinking of working on a few of them today." She stood up. "See you tomorrow, Izzy," she said and clambered up the stairs. When she went into her room, she immediately plopped down at her desk.

She closed her eyes, searching for something to draw. An idea tugged at the back of her head. Her pencil moved across the paper in fluid strokes, slowly forming an image. The room was deadly quiet except for the _sritch-stratch _of the pencil against the paper. Finally, her pencil clattered to the desk. Clary stared, satisfied, at her finished drawing. An angel with pure white wings stood atop a building. She wasn't really sure what had exactly inspired it, but she liked what she saw. Shee still hadn't drawn the face or colored it in, though.

Clary, who was reaching for her pastels, suddenly felt an unbearable feeling of tiredness. With a sigh, she stripped into her PJs, brushed her teeth, and hurried off to bed, where she lay there dreaming about paintbrushes and pencils.

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><p><strong>OK, I understand it if you thought that the story was uneventful, flat and generic, but instead of flaming, please give constructive feedback 'cause it really helps. If you like it (which I'm crossing my fingers for), then take a few minutes to drop a review and say you want me to continue. Favoriting and following don't hurt either. ;) I promise it will get better!<strong>

**Anyways, I was going to publish this a LONG time ago but things just got busy so yeah. But seriously: IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE REVIEW AND SAY SO 'CAUSE I WANT TO KNOW. AND ALSO REMEMBER YOU CAN REVIEW WITHOUT AN ACCOUNT SO PLEASE DO!**

**Until next time,**

**Marie E. Brooke**


	2. Clary's Amazing Haiku

I** am speechless.**

**You guys have surprised me yet again with your awesomeness. I give you some random stuff floating around in my mind, and you give me this. I feel so bad for not really giving you my best work, but I will do better on this one. I am astounded because so many people like my story! Are you kidding me? I will TOTALLY continue! :D**

**Anyways, there was a guest that told me that they weren't really seeing the 'torn up family-ness' here. Well, you know one of those families that seem really cheery on the outside but really, deep inside, there are horrible memories, torn trust and broken hearts? It's one of those. Like, they've been through A LOT and it's all taken care of, but there are still scars, barely visible, gracing the surface of their seemingly perfect facade. (I literally just read through that sentence that I really quickly wrote and realized I sounded cheesy :D) I'll probably develop it more later on in the story.**

**By my sword and pen,**

**Marie E. Brooke**

**Disclaimer: Basic fact: I am not Cassandra Clare or a unicorn. Both are equally impossible. But I am the author of this amazing haiku featured in this chapter! :D**

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><p><strong>~A Reddish Shade of Gold~<strong>

_**A TMI fanfic by**_

**Marie E. Brooke**

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><p>Light filtered through Clary's bedroom window, basking the room in a pale, yellow light. Birds chirped melodious tunes, hopping afro from branch to branch. The sky was a strong, clear blue, dotted with thin strips of white. It was, overall, a perfect morning. Until...<p>

"Get up already, Clary!" shouted Isabelle, barging her way in through the window. A few terrified birds flew off, and some leaves rustled their way into Clary's bedroom, leaving Isabelle shaking out twigs and leaves from her hair onto an already cluttered floor. Isabelle simply brushed off a few more twigs onto Clary's comforter and shook her shoulders. "It's National Poetry Week!" said Isabelle, knowing how enthusiastic Clary was about these kinds of artsy things. She had even demanded that all her friends (two) speak in rhymes last year. Needless to say, it was torturous; However, they hadn't dared refuse for the fear that they would flunk their art classes.

Instead of shooting out of her bed and yelling about why the hell she was in her room anyways like a normal, rational person, she simply handed Isabelle a piece of crumbled paper that was clearly ripped out from a notebook.

"What...?" Isabelle peered at the paper. Faded print - clearly Clary's handwriting - was scrawled messily across the paper. It was... "A haiku?" said Isabelle, scanning the paper quickly. Her curious expression quickly turned to exasperation. "Seriously, Clary?"

_**Getting Out of Bed**_

_**A Haiku by Clary Fray**_

_**No, no, no, no, no**_

_**No, no, no, no, no, no, no, **_

_**No, no, no, no, no**_

Clary just mumbled and rolled over. "Shut up, Izzy," she said, her voice inaudible due to her face being stuck into a giant fluffy pillow. "I'm trying to sleep here," she added irritably.

"It's 7:10 and a school day," pointed out Isabelle.

"I don't care," came Clary's muffled response.

"Well, you should," said Isabelle. "The applications for entering the art competition are due today, and I hear you haven't filled it out yet."

Clary's eyes shot open. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" she shouted to the sky, bolting up. Her bright red hair was a frizzy mess that was quickly tamed with a gallon of water and a brush. She was just slipping into her jeans when she noticed Isabelle wasn't in the room anymore. Probably at breakfast. She began to work more quickly, tying up her hair with a scrunchie and slipping on her sneakers at turbo speed.

Suddenly, the door opened in the middle of her putting on her grey sweatshirt. Sebastian peeked his head inside, peering around the messy room. "Oh, she's still in there," he said with relief evident in his voice.

"What are you doing here anyways?" said Clary.

"Oh, just checking to see if you were still here. After all, who wouldn't want to be the first to eat the pancakes?" Sebastian ducked his head out before Clary could smack him, and ran down the stairs. Clary glared at his offending back before yanking on her sweatshirt and racing down to join him, desperate for one her mother's heavenly pancakes.

Isabelle was waiting for her downstairs, already eating a large stack of pancakes, topped with creamy butter. Sebastian was gobbling down about three pancakes in one gulp. Clary grabbed some of her own and immediately dug into her the golden-brown goodness, devouring it in about 5 minutes complete with melted butter, powdered sugar and maple syrup. She licked her lips, but she didn't have time to enjoy the taste, seeing as it was already 7:30 and she needed to leave now if she didn't want to be late.

"Isabelle! Car!" yelled Clary, heading for the door.

"Coming! I just need to finish these _delicious _pancakes!" gushed Isabelle, her voice sounding slightly muffled.

Clary rolled her eyes, and then checked her watch anxiously. 7:35. "Izzy, it's-" began Clary worriedly.

"I'm here, jeez." Isabelle rolled her eyes as she materialized out of thin air.

"How do you do that?" said Clary aloud.

Isabelle grinned. "Do what?"

"Nothing. Just start the goddamn car. I want to get to school quickly so I can drop of my application for art." Clary bounced, anxiously, on the balls of her feet.

Isabelle sighed, climbing into her Volvo. "Sure, whatever," said Isabelle. "Do what you want. But you better get in fast, or we'll be late for school." Clary nodded, then quietly slipped into the car behind Isabelle, casting a fleeting look at the review mirror. Her red hair was still a bit puffy and she had dry mucus caked on the sides of the eyes. She self-consiously smoothed down her hair, nervously reaching for her lipstick. Isabelle noticed this and snorted.

"Really, Clary?" she said. "It's not like turning in a piece of paper is a big deal."

"It's not the paper," she said, biting her lip.

"Oooh...is it a boy?" Isabelle wanted to know. Her face was alight with curiosity.

"No, it's not a boy!" shouted Clary, startling a few birds that were pecking at the moving car.

Isabelle studied her expression for a moment. "Yup, it's a boy," she said finally, turning away to get her phone. She quickly dialed in a number. "Yeah...Aline? Of course I'm driving...No, I don't have bluetooth. Damn those traffic laws!...Yes, I have gossip..."

"What?! No, you don't!" yelled Clary, yanking away the phone.

"Hey! Give me back my freaking phone!" yelled back Isabelle, trying desperately to grab back her precious electronic device, but failing miserably.

"No phone on the road!" said Clary cheerfully, holding it away from her.

"No jerks on the road!" countered Isabelle, still trying to drive and regain her phone at the same time.

"Hey, you-Isabelle, stop!" said Clary, putting down the phone to gesture frantically at the red light in front of them. Isabelle immediately pressed her foot down on the brake pedal. The car came to a screeching halt -the wheels squeaking against the road and creating an unpleasant whining noise- right in front of the intersection, just in time to avoid hitting a speeding green BMW. Clary sighed in relief, glad that they weren't in a car accident.

Isabelle, however, had different priorities. She quickly grabbed her phone away from the unsuspecting redhead.

"Hey, no stealing!" said Clary once she noticed the phone was safely tucked into Isabelle's pocket.

"Sorry, no chance," said Isabelle, keeping her eyes on focused solely on the road. She started to drive. "Besides, you were technically stealing from me, so you should be apologizing now."

"But-"

"Please, don't argue." Isabelle, who was still keeping a close eye on the road, held up a hand. "We were lucky we didn't collide with that car earlier. I really don't want to test that luck again over such a boring topic."

Clary, who was almost as shocked with Isabelle calling her phone 'boring' than the prospect of a car crash, responded with silence for the rest of the car drive.

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><p>They arrived at school, it seemed, right on time, judging from the overflow of cars parked in front of the school and the barrage of students rushing to get in.<p>

"Thank goodness we're on time," breathed Isabelle, relieved as she surveyed the typical morning overflow. After the couple's close shave with a potential car accident, Isabelle had drove with extreme caution, which meant her going at 5 miles per hour and Clary fuming about it in shotgun.

Upon entering the building, Clary and Isabelle parted ways, each going to their lockers to get ready. A brown-haired boy with glasses and a lopsided smile approached Clary. "Yo, Clary," he said, speaking to her open locker door.

Clary peered around her locker to glare at him. "Simon Lewis. You missed dinner. For. A. Freaking. Board. Game," she said, pronouncing each word sharply.

Simon put up his hands defensively. "Hey! It was for band practice. The Lethal Fungi is really doing good," he added happily.

"I thought it was the Millennium Lint," said Clary, pulling out her books and firmly shutting her locker.

"We changed it," said Simon proudly. "Doesn't the words 'lethal fungi' have such a nice ring to it?"

"Change it back to the Spontaneous Lawnchairs," muttered Clary.

"Nah, I like this one." Simon grinned. "See you!" he called out.

"'Kay!" Clary quickly made her way through the throng of students in the hallway to the Science room. Mr. Aldertree was already there, doing some kind of boring speech. Clary gave him an apologetic smile, which was returned with a disapproving frown.

"Clarissa, you're late by 27.8576 seconds," he said, checking his watch. "That is, I believe, your third tardy this week." He gave her a look and quickly resumed his lecture about what-its-genetic-membrane-something.

Clary groaned. Ever since Aldertree had replaced his old-fashioned golden pocket watch for a sleek, shiny strap-on, he had gone from marking them by seconds (which was already bad enough) to full-out decimals, which meant Clary was late almost every single class. There were a few memorable moments, though. One kid (Clary forgot who) was late by an irregular number and Aldertree was ticking off numbers until the bell rung. Red-faced and flustered, Aldertree quickly gave them a homework-free weekend and ushered the students out the door, much to their pleasure.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the bell rung. Kids rushed out the door in happiness, finally free of the boring genetic membrane lecture that everybody was sleeping through anyways. Clary, in her rush to get out, bumped into somebody with long, black hair. Isabelle.

"Can you go with me to the office?" asked Clary hurriedly. "For the competition."

Isabelle gave her a confused look. "Sure...but we should hurry. Class starts in..." Isabelle checked her watch-

-which was yanked away by Clary. "Stop checking the time!" said Clary, thinking of Aldertree and irregular numbers.

"What?"

"Nothing, let's go." Clary started to drag Isabelle by her stylish blue blouse.

"My blouse! You're ruining it! What? Stop this madness!"

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><p>Clary slid onto a green plastic bench, awkwardly balancing her lunch tray on her arm. Isabelle wrinkled her nose.<p>

"What's that disgusting smell?" she demanded, waving at the hair. "It smells like sludge from the Hudson River or something."

"Meatloaf Surprise," corrected Clary. Indeed, the putrid fumes that were wafting in the air were emitting from her lunch tray. Like all schools, St. Idris High had a horrible catering service. It was a wonder that it was even legal. Today, they were serving 'Meatloaf Surprise', which Clary strongly suspected was a mix of radioactive substance, mud and rotten prunes.

"Is that even edible?" said Aline, who had just arrived. She eyed the food suspiciously before taking out a pair of chopsticks and digging into her sushi, happily munching on her edible food.

"Probably not," agreed Clary, who was enviously eyeing Aline's food. "Hey, you mind if I eat some of that?" she asked hopefully pointing to the rather appetizing sushi.

Aline protectively wrapped an arm around her lunchbox. "Hell no! Eat your own...whatever you call that," finished Aline.

"Meatloaf Surprise," said Clary for the second time.

"Surprises their victims with its horrible smell!" added Isabelle. Clary and Aline laughed.

"Buy it for only $9.99! Comes with the whole catering staff!" said Aline, giggling. They grinned, giggling.

"Also, you're welcome to take the students, too, and send them to a mansion or something!" put in Clary. "'Cause the homework here just isn't agreeing with me." The three started to giggle hysterically. Eventually, their laughter died out.

"So," said Aline, who had just calmed down, "How's art?"

"Great!" Clary beamed, clapping her hands together. "I just signed up officially at the art room." Isabelle and Clary had found out that they had to go to Mrs. Branwell, the art teacher, to sign up, much to Isabelle (and her heels) dismay. "Are you entering?"

"Nah...I can't draw a straight line." Aline made a face.

"But I can."

The girls recognized that sneer to the edge of their voice, recognized the _click-clack_ of their heels, and recognized them as they swivled around to meet them. To say it shortly, they knew who they were.

Unfortunately.

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><p><strong>Cut! #cliffie I know, I'm so evil, yadda yadda. After a week, you give us this? Sorry, guys, I couldn't help it. Fanfiction wouldn't let me log in for awhile. :( Anyways, it's kinda random at the beginning and not much Clace. But you wait. The next chapter will certainly have some new developments and the chapter after that...well, let's just say drama and tension will be running high. -insert evil laugh-<strong>

**So...I was thinking of starting a new fic. One is about David and Maia (hurt fic) and another is about Tessa and Cecily (friendship/humor). Which one should I write first?**

**Anyways, remember to review and tell me who you think these people are! Give feedback and tell me if I made any mistakes! Constructive critism is welcome! AND YOU CAN REVIEW IF YOU ARE A GUEST, REMEMBER. Favorites are cool as well. Remember, give me reviews and favs to keep me motivated I will write faster. Let's see if we can get to 20 reviews, eh? My mind has already been blown about those 20 follows, so no need for those. :P JK, I love them all.  
><strong>

**By my seraph blade,**

**Marie E. Brooke**


	3. Simon Ditches Clary

********PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE.**** BELOW FOR SNEAK PEEKS FROM FOLLOWING CHAPTERS, IMPORTANT NEWS AND INFO ON MY UPCOMING ONE-SHOTS! ALSO, I MAY INCLUDE SNEAK PEEKS FROM THE NEXT CHAPTERS SOMETIMES!****

**By my seraphic pen,**

**Marie E. Brooke**

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><p><strong>~A Reddish Shade of Gold~<strong>

_**A TMI fanfic by **_

**Marie E. Brooke**

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><p>Kaelie and Seelie stood, arms on their cocked hips, sneering. The two had long fair hair that reached their hips and were decked out in the latest fashions. They sauntered toward them, heels clicking against the linoleum floor.<p>

Seelie, who looked exactly like Kaelie save her icy blue eyes, glared at them, but when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly light, "I'm signed up too!" She grinned at them, flashing her sharp white teeth. Behind her, Kaelie tossed her hair and crossed her legs, causing her short skirt to hike up her thighs and reveal her pink thong. She smirked as several nearby guys fainted, hearts floating in their eyes. Seelie shot her a patronizing look, causing Kaelie to immediately straighten, her expression sheepish.

"Oh, that's great," said Aline dully, looking uninterested. Isabelle looked wary and Clary innocently confused.

"I know, right?" Seelie was still talking in that ridiculously cheerful tone. Suddenly, she looked nervous. She beckoned for the three to come closer, and they obliged, huddling together in a tight little knot. "Truth to be told, it's my sister who's entering that competition," she said in a hushed tone, her expression solemn. "But she's really not that good at drawing. Pretty horrible at it. But she does like to win. Loves to, in fact. And if she doesn't...well, that's never happened before, so I don't know. But well, she _has _to be the queen of the show. She's like that." Her voice was careful. Cautious. Her words were being carefully chosen. "She simply will not be able to win out against you. She's a bit spoiled, and..." She trailed off, glancing towards Kaelie, who was flirting with a random boy. "I should go. Remember what I said, okay?" She patted them each on the head and sashayed off, leaving the three of them frozen with shock.

Finally, Aline spoke. "That...was weird," she said.

"Way to state the obvious, Aline," said Clary. "Seelie was _way _out of character. I never knew she could actually take anything seriously."

"She sounded pretty certain, though. Maybe we should listen to her," said Aline thoughtfully.

"No." It was the first time Isabelle had spoken then. She had remained silent for most of the time. "I used to be friends with Seelie and Kaelie. This may surprise you, but we weren't exactly goody two-shoes." Behind her, Aline rolled her eyes.

"No kidding," muttered Clary, thinking of the time when Isabelle had a rather...notorious reputation for being both a heartbreaker and a troublemaker, along with Seelie and Kaelie. The three had broken laws, wrecked classrooms, spread nasty rumors about faculty affairs, threw large house parties, and several other _naughty _things.

Isabelle ignored her. "Anyways, I know how Seelie really is. She's malicious and very cunning. She's a good actor, and she's even had formal drama classes and has an acting agent. Don't believe her facade." Isabelle glared darkly at Seelie's retreating back. "I did, and regretted it."

There was silence. _1, 2, 3... _"Well, at least you didn't get called out by the police anymore after you left her," piped up Aline.

Clary snickered. "Oh, yeah. Remember when she caught the neighbor's cat on fire? '_Oh, it wasn't our fault she walked into our open bonfire!' _Like, really?" said Clary, doing a high-pitched imitation of Isabelle's voice.

"What?! I do not sound like that! I am graceful, more smooth and lithe.."

"Says the girl who microwaved her pillow," Aline stage-whispered to Clary. They started to giggle softly.

"It was an accident!" cried Isabelle at the snickering pair.

"Like the time you set off the smoke alarm in the kitchen for burning _scrambled eggs?" _snorted Clary. She and Aline started to chatter eagerly about Isabelle's previous mishaps, which were, unfortunately, a lot.

"I thought that we agreed not to talk about that," gritted Isabelle through her teeth just as the bell rung. _Saved by the bell, _she thought as she tipped the contents of her lunch tray into the trash. "See ya, Clary, Aline." She nodded her head, looking all cool-like.

"Yeah. See you at class and at my house," said Clary briefly before turning to Aline to excitedly discuss Isabelle's blunders as they walked to their lockers. Isabelle simply sighed, facepalming, and quickly walked to her lockers, deciding that she would spare Clary and Aline for the school day. When they went to Clary's house...oh, was she going to make that redhead suffer. Isabelle smiled evilly as she thought of the many punishments she would inflict on her, like filling her bed with spiders (Clary hated spiders), ripping up her homework or playing Justin Bieber music. Isabelle, sadistic grin still plastered on her face, shouldered her bag and headed off to her locker.

* * *

><p>Clary kicked open the front door, lugging her backpack that was laden with homework. She let out a loud groan. Jocelyn, who had already had too much experience with the dramatics of caring for a high school boy, ignored this and continued to read her <em>People<em> magazine. Clary trudged up the stairs, too tired to register that Sebastian was not at home (something that was very strange indeed). She tramped into her room, relieved at the prospect of peace and quiet...

Justin Bieber music blasted through the room at max volume. Isabelle lay sprawled on her bed, eating from a box of Junior Mints not unlike the ones Clary had bought the other day. Aline was nowhere in sight. "What the hell?" yelled Clary over the horrible music.

"What?" Isabelle had finished the box of Junior Mints and was now chomping on some Bazooka Bubble Gum that Clary was willing to bet wasn't Isabelle's. "Yeah, I understand. Totally. You want me to help you finish Sourpatch, right?"

"No! Not that! I mean, I never wanted you to mooch off my candy...ugh!" Clary was not in the mood to deal with Isabelle. Red-faced and furious, she swiped her candy out of Isabelle's hands and flicked off the pink beats pill that held Isabelle's sparkly iPhone. "Get out," she growled, picking up a random ruler from her desk.

"Wait!" Isabelle cried. "Don't kick me out!"

"Give me one good reason why," said Clary, stick still in hand.

"I-don't-want-to-go-home-because-I'll-have-to-babysit-Max-and-you-know-how-I-am-with-babysitting-and-Alec-is-coming-here-to-support-Jace-and-Sebastian-for-the-art-thing-they're-doing-so-they-can't-babysit-and-Aline-will-just-hand-off-the-" she said in a rush.

"Wait...slow down." Clary held up a hand, signaling her to stop. "What 'art thingy' are you talking about? Jace and Alec are coming over? Why? Start over." Clary tried not to sound hurt, but almost failed. After all, she knew about every single 'art thingy' that happened around the neighborhood. She prided herself on being the master of art. And now Isabelle, who couldn't even draw a straight line, knew about another 'art thingy?'

"It's going to be a long story..." Isabelle warned.

Clary folded her arms. She was desperate to know what 'art thingy' she was talking about, but was trying to act more interested in the general case itself rather than this single (and rather important, she thought) aspect.

Isabelle sighed, defeated. "Well, it happened last night..."

* * *

><p>"OK, let me get this straight." Clary put her palms face-down on her desk. "After I excused myself at dinner," she started.<p>

"Rudely walked off in the middle of the conversation," interjected Isabelle.

"Shut up! It's politely excused!" yelled Clary. Dark bags hung from her sunken, bloodshot eyes. The fact that she was still holding the ruler didn't help. Isabelle stayed silent, too horrified at this violation against fashion to speak.

"Anyways," continued Clary, "When I left, you guys were still in the middle of a conversation, that quickly escalated into an argument. Jace and Sebastian started to bicker so much that at some point, it turned into a full-out shouting match. Mom got really mad and grounded Sebastian for a week, then called your mom, who grounded Jace for a month."

Isabelle nodded, not bothering to elaborate (it had been a food fight) for the fear of being smacked in the head by a green plastic ruler.

"So Jace and Sebastian came up with this plan where they would sign up for the art competition and go over to Sebastian's house to pretend to work on their art project so they could hang out and play video games and stuff. And my mom believed it, being the art geek she was, so they're coming over in about..." Clary checked her watch, "Five minutes. Oh, and Alec is coming too to support them."

Isabelle nodded. "Oh, and also, they might try to bribe you to do all the work for them," she supplied.

Clary, who wasn't finished talking yet, ignored this. "And...you except me to believe that?" she finished incredulously, glaring at her. "Who do you think I am, an idiot?"

_That's exactly what I think, _Isabelle wanted to say. Instead, she said, "Well, it's the truth. What else could it be?"

"A lie?" suggested Clary. Isabelle rolled her eyes. "I'm going to Starbucks with Simon," she declared flatly. "I'm going to be late if I don't leave now," she added, not bothering to look at her watch. She quickly exited the room and started to descend the stairs before Isabelle could block the door in some way.

"Wait, what about me?" called Isabelle, starting to follow Clary down the hall.

"Deal with it," Clary called back, flipping her phone open and calling Simon. "Hello? Yeah, that's the place. Meet you there. So what if I just called to tell you? Just come." Clary snapped her phone shut and started towards the door. Her mother gave her a questioning look, to which Clary responded to by mouthing _Simon _at her and walking out the door.

Navigating the busy streets of Manhattan was no easy feat. There were masses of people bustling to get to whatever, and most people, having to work for hours on the clock, weren't in the best mood, which usually resulted in much shoving and cussing. Clary ducked her head, expertly maneuvering her way around the crowd and only getting shoved one or two times, which was pretty good for five blocks. She finally stopped in front of what looked like a very generic Starbucks (to those many idiots in the world, thought Clary) but what was actually a step below heaven.

She opened the door, causing a small bell to ring. The heat engulfed her, soothing her shivering body. She hadn't realized how numb her hands were without gloves, and having them being hit by a heater definitely helped. She inhaled the heavenly smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods, a faint smile on her face. Better than heaven, no matter how much a dusty old book claims otherwise.

She spotted Simon before he saw her, his hands tucked into pockets and sitting at a love seat in a dark shadowed corner of the shop, drumming his fingers against the plastic table. People gave him several odd glances, to which he blushed brightly. His expression turned into one of immense relief as she approached him.

"Took you long enough," he said as she sat down in the seat in front of him. "And especially when you called on such a short notice," he added pointedly. When Clary made no response, he gave her a look of disapproval. "You have no shame," he said to her.

"Can I have a coffee?" she asked him. "Black, preferably."

"Yup," he muttered, shaking his head. "No shame." He still stood up and went over to the massive line to order them coffee, though.

Clary was sitting with her cheek against the cool plastic of the table when the rich, bitter scent of black coffee entered her nose. Her head shot up and she saw Simon coming towards their table with full hands. Clary licked her lips at the sight of her black coffee.

"Careful," Simon warned her as he handed her a steaming paper cup of coffee. "It's hot."

"Duh," said Clary, sipping her _hot_ drink. "That's why it says, 'Caution: Very hot' on the cup."

Simon rolled his eyes at her sarcasm and started to cautiously nip at his own lemon tea. They sat in silence for a few moments before the silence was broken. "So, what's up?" said Simon. "Besides the ceiling, of course. Or the lights, or sky, or-"

"Well, I signed up for the art competition."

Simon rolled her eyes again. "Finally, Fray. You were talking about it for weeks."

"It's a big thing!" protested Clary. "It's the annual art competition. There are going to be prizes and thousands of people will be competing"

"I'm pretty sure we only have a few hundred people in our school," said Simon.

Clary glared at him. "There are going to be cash prizes. The grand prize alone is rumored to be a hundred thousand dollars!" Clary's eyes had grown as wide as quarters (no pun intended). She grabbed Simon by the shoulders, shaking him. "Thousands!" she yelled. "THOUSANDS UPON THOUSANDS UPON-" Several people started to stare, but since it was New York, constipated red-heads weren't worth their attention. Or, for the obsessed YouTubers, their memory.

Simon decided not to tell her that there wasn't enough money in the school budget for a cash prize, and instead settled for rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time and drinking his cooled-off coffee.

"Anyways," Clary had stopped shaking him and was acting normal again, "it's a lot of money. And a lot of people are entering. I know that Jaida is, I'm definitely sure that Kaelie is. Ugh, what a bitch. I'm pretty sure Kaelie can't draw, so she can't be much competition. I'm not completely sure if Jace is, since I got it from Isabelle, and you and I know how Isabelle is, but-"

Simon choked on his tea. "Wait, Jace is in it?" he asked, completely ignoring what she said earlier.

"Um, yeah," said Clary, giving him an odd look. "Anyways-"

"Jace is in it?" Simon repeated dubiously. "Why? He can't even draw a straight line!"

"How should I know?" Clary shrugged. "Besides, why would I care?" she added.

Simon looked like he wanted to protest, but rolled his eyes instead. (Clary was really starting to get annoyed with the eye-rolling)

"Will you stop rolling your eyes?" she demanded. "It's getting annoying."

"I thought you liked it when I was sarcastic and witty," said Simon, feigning confusion.

"You aren't being witty, you're being lame," said Clary angrily. "Wit requires...wit. It needs to have a sharp edge to it, yet it must include humor." Clary snapped her fingers for emphasis. "You can't just say, "You're ugly" or roll your eyes. You have to twist the words. Remember, wit doesn't outright throw an insult out there. It is full of clever implications. You can use similes as long as you're discreet, but mostly, it's all implications. Never use metaphors. They are lame." She continued to yak on about being witty. _She's almost as passionate about sarcasm as she is art, _thought Simon as he made his escape from the ranting redhead, slipping unnoticed out the door. He took out his phone and sent her a quick text to inform her about his exit. Hopefully, she wouldn't get it soon.

* * *

><p><strong>Ten minutes later...<strong>

"SIMON!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ****Finally finished, and over 3,000 words! (That's a big achievement for me, btw) I had this itch to end it on a cliffhanger again, but I'm not that evil. Anyways, I've finally introduced the main plot finally, thank god. Watch out for my [very] subtle foreshadowing. Drama is stirring up and so will the Clace. (if enough of you review *winkwink*) I hope I did justice when writing Seelie. Believe it or not, more than a quarter of my energy went into writing out Seelie's dialogue. I actually wrote out several different scenarios, but obviously I scraped them, because there's only two faeries here, not three, like one of my drafts suggested. **And also, I included a few quotes from TMI. See if you can catch them!**  
><strong>

**Sorry for the late update. I've been working on a couple of one-shots. One is a TID humor one-shot, and another is a TMI tragedy one-shot. I'm also drafting out a tribute fic to Jessamine (inspired by Smoochie Pooh) and a brand new TID story.  
><strong>

**On a more related note, updates will probably be more infrequent. School is closing in, and I'm stuck in the middle of it. I probably would've published this on Halloween if not for your infinite support. Remember, reviews, favs and follows make me update faster! Also, if you're itching to see something happen in this story, such as Simon and Clary watching anime, Isabelle, Clary and Aline doing something, etc. you can request that in the reviews.**

**Also, ATTENTION: I AM GOING TO START RESPONDING TO REVIEWS BY PM. IF YOU ARE REVIEWING AS A GUEST, I WILL INCLUDE REVIEW RESPONSES IN THE A/N NEXT CHAPTER!**

**REVIEW!**

**By my seraphic pen, **

**Marie E. Brooke**


	4. Isabelle Lies Good

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN! :)**

**I'm back to normal updating, but from now on I'll give myself a little slack. Once every two weeks. One week if you guys REVIEW A LOT. (7-10 reviews)**

**PLEASE READ THE SUPER IMPORTANT ANNOUCNMENT I HAVE IN THE A/N AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER! THANK YOU! ****Now stop reading this A/N and start reading the chapter! XD **

**By my seraphic pen,**

**Marie E. Brooke**

* * *

><p><strong>~A Reddish Shade of Gold~<strong>

_a TMI fanfic by_

**Marie E. Brooke**

* * *

><p>"I can't believe he ditched me," grumbled Clary to Aline, slouching deeper into the soft but worn-out leather of the backseat. The heater was raging full-blast in cab, and familiar tunes hummed softly in the background. The faint smell of cigarettes and the sharp tang of metal hung in the air, and there was bits of debris littering the limited foot-space, but it was better than taking a shower in the pouring rain, which was the alternative.<p>

Clary had only found that Simon had left the café ten minutes after the ditching occurred. Fuming, she had stalked outside, intending to give him a piece of her mind, only to discover that he was nowhere in sight and that rain was spilling down in large amounts. Since she didn't have an umbrella, she was forced to hail a taxi along with what seemed like half the population. After much swearing at cab-stealers and mentally cursing her short height, she finally managed to snag a taxi. Unfortunately, she had to give up almost all her money just to pay for it. _Curse that Simon, _she thought angrily. _I'm pretty sure I saw him with an umbrella. Sneaky little devil. _Her mind kept lashing out at the poor guy until Aline's reply brought her out of her reverie.

"Well, to be fair, you were probably being really annoying," stated Aline matter-of-factly, her voice cracked and disoriented because of the bad connection.

"Probably?" muttered Clary. "Why do you think that?"

"Because that's usually what you are," said Aline matter-of-factly.

"I'm not! I can prove it and not be annoying for the rest of this car drive," countered Clary. "See, I'm not being annoying! I'm accepting your criticism and storing it inside my brain because it's very good feedback. I'm taking your advice into consideration and carefully evaluating it so I can apply it to other similar situations! I'm still not being annoying, by the way, right? Right? Wait...Are you still there?"

Aline rolled her eyes. "All you did was just prove my point, you know," she said.

Clary ignored this. "I'm hanging up now."

Aline was only too happy about this and did not protest.

Soon after, her phone started ringing. She checked the caller ID, seeing _Jocelyn Fray _on the screen. "Mom?" she asked. "Is that you?"

"Of course, honey. Isn't that kind of obvious?" said her mother.

"It was a theoretical question."

"Oh." There was silence. Then, "Where are you? I've been waiting for you for almost an hour."

"Traffic. I'm stuck in a cab." said Clary, deciding that it would be better to give her mother only part of the truth. Taxi drivers were very picky about people shouting strings of profanity during their shift, for some reason.

"Oh, that's too bad," clucked Jocelyn disapprovingly. "Well, next time try not to get stuck in traffic, 'kay?"

"Um, OK..." said Clary awkwardly.

"That was a theoretical question," her mother snapped. Clary didn't respond. "Hope you get back soon!" she chirped, her tone suddenly changing.

"Sure. Bye."

"Oh, and Clary?" said her mother as Clary was going to end the call. Her finger was hovering over the red button. "Is there anything you would like to tell me?" There was a dangerous undertone to her voice that only a mother could perfect.

"Well, um, there is one thing..." Clary proceeded to tell her about what transpired between her and Simon.

Silence for five minutes. "Well, to be fair, you were probably being really annoying," her mother said finally.

"Probably?" said Clary, feeling a dreading sense of déjà vu.

"Sorry, sweetie. I have to, um, feed the cat! It's really urgent," said her mother hurriedly (they didn't have any pets).

"Mom!" she cried. "You're supposed to be on my side!" Unfortunately for her, Jocelyn had already hung up.

Clary slipped her phone in her pocket, staring at the water-streaked windows. With no Aline or busybody mom to keep her busy, she found it very boring in the cab, where all she could do was watch the rain slam against the window and travel down it in droplets and rivulets. To keep herself entertained, she imagined that each streak of water was Simon's blood and thought of ways to kill him. Unfortunately, she ran out at five ways, so she was forced to settle for staring in silence at the scratched glass pane that separated the shotgun from the backseat and listen to the screeches of dying cats (read: singing).

* * *

><p>"Well, to be fair, you probably were being really annoying," said Isabelle, echoing Aline's earlier words. Clary had stalked into her room angrily, slamming the door and nearly scaring poor Isabelle (who was eating marshmallows) to death.<p>

This statement did not help Clary's sour mood. "Why does everybody keep saying that?" she exploded.

"Because that's what you usually-"

"I'm going to cut you off right there," said Clary, holding up a hand. "Anyways, isn't there something you wanted to tell me?" she asked.

"Oh yeah! I forgot about that!" Isabelle snapped her fingers. "It was...Wait." Isabelle paused, holding two fingers to her forehead. "Yeah, I remember now. Jace and Sebastian want to talk to you about the art competition. They're downstairs."

"You said earlier that Alec had also come over! That proves that you're lying!" crowed Clary, pointing an accusing finger at Isabelle. "Ha! Detective Clary strikes again!"

Isabelle, instead of fessing up to her 'crime', as Clary liked to call it, simply facepalmed. "Clary," she started, a hint of exasperation leaking into her voice, "has it ever occurred to you that maybe Alec could have just _left?"_

Clary was actually in such a bad mood that she had not, in fact, thought about this. But she wasn't about to give Isabelle the satisfaction of being right. "Of _course _I thought about that!" said Clary, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated manner. She waved her hand dismissively. "Duh! I'm not that dumb! I was just trying to...um, test your wits! Yeah, that!" Clary smiled smugly, satisfied that she had won this war.

Isabelle watched this spectable, thoroughly amused. She would've contradicted Clary's earlier statement, but decided not to rain on the dramatic redhead's parade. Besides, there were more important things to focus on then her pride. "You are completely right," agreed Isabelle. "Now, those _Snickers _bars are looking really tasty..." Isabelle glanced up at Clary with wide, hopeful eyes.

Clary tried in vain to look away, but had to cave in. "Fine," she muttered. Isabelle squealed and, after giving Clary a brief hug, proceeded to stuff herself with chocolate.

"Thanks!" mumbled Isabelle through a mouthful of chocolate. "This is really good! Now, go away." Isabelle waved a hand at her. "Shoo."

Clary started towards the door, then paused half-way. "Wait, why do Jace and Sebastian want to talk to me?" she asked.

Isabelle paused in her splurging to give her an answer, "They want to - I mean, they desperately need your wisdom," said Isabelle. "Now, go already! You're taking way too long."

Clary, slightly confused at the awkward statement, gave her friend a suspicious look. "Are you sure?" she asked skeptically. "You sounded a bit nervous."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Fray, you take everything too seriously," she said. "Some of the chocolate just caught in my throat. Now, seriously, go!"

_Maybe she's right. I have been pretty cranky today. _"Sure, whatever. Bye," said Clary, heading out the room. The minute the door closed, Isabelle dropped her candy bars (a first for her) and turned on a walkie-talkie that had been tucked under the bed.

"She's coming," said Isabelle into the tiny speaker. "Nearly slipped up, but thankfully, I'm a good liar." She tossed her hair. "It's one of my many talents.

"That's great," said Jace.

"Aren't I going to get my reward? You know, a sack of candy?" asked Isabelle impatiently.

"Yeah. I never said when, though. I'll give it to you when Halloween comes around," he said.

"Cheater!" Isabelle grumbled. "Looks like _somebody's_ not going to be earning any favors anytime soon," she added snidely.

"Sure, see if I care," chimed in Sebastian.

"Ugh! You guys are so infuriating!" Isabelle exclaimed.

"Love you too, sis!" said Jace, turning off his walkie-talkie to stop the flow of obscenities that were crackling through his speaker. He faced Sebastian, who was leaning against the sky-blue wall. "Good, she's coming." He sighed. "Now all we need to do is-"

Sebastian shushed him. "Shh," he whispered. "She might hear us."

Jace nodded. "Good point. Let's just be patient and wait for her to come," he whispered back.

"Yeah, let's just hide out here and wait."

The boys waited, tense as coiled springs, in bated breath.

Then...

"Dude, can I bum a chip?"

"No! Shut up! Besides, you already ate five bags!"

"No, you shut up! And those bags were tiny!"

"You started it in the first place! And they were _not _tiny! They were jumbo-sized!"

"Jumbo-sized isn't big!"

"Sure. That's why they're called 'Jumbo-sized'. Because they're tiny."

"Whatever, let's just shut up and stick to the plan! We don't want to get murdered by She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named!"

They were quiet after that.

* * *

><p>Clary descended the stairs in a flurry. She dashed over to the living room, where her mother was reading quietly on a red couch. "Mom, where's Sebastian and Jace?" she asked. "They said they wanted to talk to me."<p>

Jocelyn shrugged. "They're working on their art project," she said. She was positively beaming. "The little sweethearts! It's so touching about how they love art so much," she gushed.

Clary, who found it a little insulting that her mother wasn't paying attention to _her _devotion to art, simply stared at Jocelyn babbling on and on about how _proud_ she was and how _darling _those two 'charming' boys were.

"Mom. Listen. _Where are they?"_

"Oh!" Jocelyn blinked. "They're in the basement, those _diligent_" - before she could complete her sentence, Clary was already walking away. She finally arrived at a small trapdoor. Carefully opening the hatch, she opened the heavy trapdoor, causing a large cloud of dust to float up. Coughing, she switched on the light and started to descend the wobbly stairs. The dim bulb dangling from the low ceiling made ghostly shadows against the wooden walls. The only sound in the faintly lit room was the creaks and moans of the stairs.

"Jace? Sebastian?" she said hesitantly. "Sebastian? Where are you?" called Clary, cupping her hands around her mouth and raising her voice. When there was still no response, she sighed. Maybe they had moved to Sebastian's room. "I'm going!" she said once again. Silence. "OK, I'm going for real!" she said, turning around with intentions to interrogate her mother.

"Now!" whispered a voice.

Clary spun around immediately, scanning the area below her for any signs of human life. She found none. "What in the name of - " she started, but before she could finished her sentence, she felt a fist clash against her temple and suddenly she was falling into an endless pit of darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Finally finished! XD I had to put up my writing speed to ultimate test, but I did it! And early, too! Here you go. Hope you enjoy. Sorry it's shorter than usual. I was in a rush to publish this. Plus, the large amount of words in the previous chapter can easily make up for the shorter amount in here.<strong>

**WE GOT FIFTY FOLLOWERS! *celebrates***

**Also, sorry about the problem with chapter two, when I accidently re-uploaded chapter three when it should've just been chapter two. I've fixed it now. If there are any other problems, feel free to say so in the reviews! It helps. **

**On another note, I only got three reviews. I don't want to sound spoiled or anything, but did I do something wrong? Was it the quality of the chapter that bothered you? Please tell me so I can improve the next chapters. It helps a lot.**

**I've also been concerned about the ratio of follows to reviews. I mean, there are a TON of followers but less than half the amount of reviews! Please review! Reviews are my favorite kind of support! (doesn't mean you shouldn't do the other two ;) **

**As always, REVIEW, FAVORITE AND FOLLOW! **

**By my seraphic pen,**

**Marie E. Brooke**


	5. Jace Can't Draw

**I'm so sorry for breaking my promise about the twice a week thing! I was really caught up in my new TMI story. It's dystopian and I spent a lot of time on it...*coughcough* Anyways, I decided to update again because I was losing followers and favorites. Sue me for my bad reasons. Anyways, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Look, do you really think this procrastinating little girl is Cassandra Clare? Get a grip, peoples. ;)**

* * *

><p><strong>~A Shade of Reddish Gold~<strong>

_**A TMI story by **_

**Marie E. Brooke**

* * *

><p>The first thing Clary saw was swashes of colors swirling across her vision, sometimes in thin tendrils or translucent spots. The second thing she saw - several hours later - was a bright flash of light as she peeled open her eyes.<p>

Unfortunately, the third thing was actually two things. Or should she say people. Two people that she least wanted to see stood in front of her, examining her like she was a mutant and they were scientists.

She reached out to wring their scrawny necks, but found her hands were bound to the chair she was sitting in, as well as her waist and ankles. She snarled at the two boys, silently cursing Isabelle to the deepest pits of hell. "Jace and Sebastian!" she yelled furiously. "Let me go or I'll fucking kill you!"

"Technically, you can't do that, seeing as your hands and feet are tied to the chair," pointed out Sebastian, chuckling with Jace.

She growled at them. "Stop it with the technicalities! They don't matter. Just let me free!"

Jace and Sebastian exchanged glances. "Nah," said Jace. "You'll tell Jocelyn." He shuddered, fear evident in his expression. Sebastian looked the same way.

Clary raised an eyebrow at them. "You're both afraid of her, aren't you?" she deadpanned.

Jace flushed red. "Of - of course not," he stuttered.

She grinned, watching the two boys make up petty excuses, faces as red as a tomato. It was all quite amusing. "Suuure," she said, rolling her eyes.

Jace and Sebastian recovered. "Fine," said Sebastian, holding up his hands. "But to be fair, she can be a demon when she wants to." He winced, probably relieving past experiences in which Jocelyn was a 'demon.'

"And it's not like you can talk, being tied up in a chair," finished Jace with a smirk.

"I can too talk," argued Clary. "You've tied me up, but you haven't gagged me."

Jace crumbled up a piece of paper into a paper ball. "You want to try that?" he taunted. "And even if I didn't gag you, you wouldn't be able to scream and alert Jocelyn, since we specifically had this room sound-proofed from Sebastian's bagpipe days."

Clary rolled her eyes, remembering Sebastian's rather unfortunate band days. Or, everybody's unfortunate ears. "What do you want from me?"

Jace and Sebastian exchanged looks. Again. _If they do that one more time, I'll - _thought Clary furiously, but Jace and Sebastian's answer cut off her angry thoughts. "We want you to," stared Jace nervously.

Clary gave them a sharp look, telling them to go on. She felt partly victorious, partly exasperated when they looked at each other yet again. "Do our - " continued Sebastian.

"Art project - "

"For us," finished Jace.

Clary stared at them for a moment. All this work just to get her to do their stupid art project? They must have really been terrified of Jocelyn. Clary complemented refusing the offer and ratting them out to Jocelyn...until she realized that she was chained to a chair and in a sound-proofed room. "You can't keep me locked up forever, you know," she reminded them. "Sooner or later Mom's going to realize I'm missing."

Sebastian and Jace did you-know-what (it was getting annoying). "Late enough so that Isabelle will eat all your candy," said Sebastian. "She's already working on it right now."

Clary paled considerably. "Untie my hands and give me a pen," she demanded. "This will be complicated, to prove to Mom that my superior art is indeed the result of your poor art skills, but I will try."

Jace, looking a bit insulted, untied Clary's hands. The minute he let loose of them, she immediately commenced tackling him, bringing him to the floor. Sebastian, alarmed and shocked, quickly fell on top of Clary, trying in vain to save Jace. All of this caused quite a scuffle, and the banging noises vibrated through the house.

**Meanwhile...**

Jocelyn frowned as she heard a loud noise emitting from Sebastian's bedroom. She sighed again. It was really grating on her nerves. And Sebastian had even assured her it was sound-proof! Well, she would show him for lying to her. She strode purposely towards the room.

Isabelle, who had also heard the loud noises and was peeking her head out the door, saw this and, remembering her cheated candy, contacted Jace and Sebastian with her walkie-talkie with intentions to bribe them. "I have top-secret information," she said in a hushed tone.

Sebastian perked up. "What?" he yelled at the walkie-talkie while still struggling to sedate Clary (and failing).

Isabelle grinned. This was going to be fun. "Sorry, I don't trust you anymore." She sighed dramatically.

"Isabelle, _spill._" ordered Sebastian.

"Sorry, I don't give information to liars," she said pointedly, her smirk practically showing in her smug tone.

"I'll let you feast on Clary's candy," said Sebastian finally.

"HEY!" shrieked Clary.

"Deal," said Isabelle. "Oh, and by the way, you might not want to make so much noise. Jocelyn is coming to your room, so you might want to hide," added Isabelle, then disconnected her walkie-talkie.

Sebastian's eyes widened. He didn't have time to wonder how the heck Jocelyn could've heard them arguing when they were in a sound-proofed room before springing into action. (Being the irrisponsible person he was, he forgot that he could've just locked the door and save them a lot of trouble.)

When Jocelyn walked in 10 seconds later, he saw Sebastian and Jace with their heads together, quietly discussing the sheet of paper before them. They looked up when she came in.

"Hi, Mrs. Fray! We were just talking the best angle to draw a shoe," said Jace convincingly, scrutinizing the paper. "Hmm...Three-quarters, you think?" he asked his white-blond companion.

"Nah," said Sebastian, "I was thinking a bird-eye view, actually." He peered at the paper, hoping that he looked professional enough to convince Jocelyn that he was actually doing his own project instead of bribing his sister to do the dirty work for him.

Jocelyn flushed with pride as she watched her son converse about the technicalities of art, paying no mind to what was actually on the paper, which looked like a cross between a flying bird and a demented turtle. _Ah, my baby is growing up into a young artist! How adorable! _Oops...did she say that aloud? Apparently, because Sebastian had just given her an odd look. She quickly scooted out the door, leaving her _art masters _in peace.

The moment the door closed behind her, Jace called out, "Clary! You can come out now!"

A figure draped in band shirts and boyish clothes stepped out, wrinkling her nose. "Your boxers smell horrible," said Clary, gagging thertically. "My nose will be tainted forever." She glanced at Jace's horrible drawing of a - well, Clary wasn't really sure what it was supposed to be. "And my eyes," she added.

"Hey!" said Jace.

Sebastian, unlike Jace, disregarded Clary's disgust at his boxers and instead fixed her with a glare. "Draw. Now."

Clary thought fast. "Oh, come on, Sebastian," she said irritably. "It's not like I can just draw it all in one minute. That's why they give us _three fricking __weeks _to finish, not three days." She scoffed.

Jace and Sebastian exchanged doubtful looks (she felt a twinge of annoyance at this). Finally, one spoke up. "I suppose you're right..." started Jace.

"And there's no way Mom's going to believe two talentless people like you finished your art project in five minutes," continued Clary. "I also have to make it look just as messy and disorganized as you are, and - "

"OK, you can stop now." Sebastian sounded irritated, much to Clary's pleasure.

"Now, if you excuse me, I have other, better things to do than listen to your pitiful banter," sniffed Clary disdainfully, pushing past the two bewildered boys and swinging the door shut with a bang.

The two teenagers stared at the door, dumbfounded, for a few seconds before turning to each other and shrugging. Within a few minutes, they had completely forgotten about what had transpired between them and Clary and were now occupied with watching TV and eating junk food.

**Meanwhile, in Clary's Room...**

Isabelle was happily munching on her candy bars - or, more accurately, Clary's candy stash - when the door suddenly burst open, revealing a positively murderous redhead. Isabelle jumped, causing the candy bar in her hand to fly up into the air and land into the wastebasket with an loud thump.

Isabelle glared at Clary. "Now look what you made me do," said Isabelle, nodding her head towards the wasted candy bar. "Those things cost money, you know."

Clary matched Isabelle's look with a withering glare of her own. "They're _my _candy bars," started Clary.

"Excuses, excuses." Isabelle waved her hand arily. "You let me have them."

" - that I let you eat before you betrayed me to the evil clutches of Jace and Sebastian!"ended Clary angrily, pointing an accusing middle finger at Isabelle. "Is that how you treat your best friend?"

"It's not that big of a deal," said Isabelle, unabashed.

"They _fricking knocked me out!" _

Isabelle merely raised an eyebrow. "Oops."

"Are you not concerned for the welfare of your dear friend?" urged Clary.

"Of course I am," said Isabelle. She then looked wistfully at the candy bars on the rug. "You mind if I have those?"

"No - I mean, yes, I mind!" said Clary, swiping a candy bar from Isabelle. "Now, OUT!" roared Clary, forcibly pushing Isabelle out the door. "I don't want to see you even step a foot in this god forsaken room again!"

Isabelle, who knew that Clary would call her five minutes later asking for homework help with history (which happened to be Isabelle's best subject and Clary's worst), allowed the redhead to shove her out of the door, knowing that she would see her candy bars soon enough.

Once Isabelle was gone, Clary sank onto her bed, feeling relieved. Until she saw her history binder on her desk, loose papers strewn around it.

And on it was her plain black phone, glinting temptingly.

Clary grasped hold of the metal object and dialed in the number that she knew best.

"Isabelle?" she asked.

Isabelle, who was waiting at the front entrance of Clary's house, coat in hand, sighed disappointedly. "Damn it. Three minutes."

"What?"

"Nothing. What is it?"

Clary coughed. "Well, I kind of need some help with the history homework..."

"Candy bars," said Isabelle stubbornly.

"Fine. Just help me," pleaded Clary, looking at her history homework with dread.

Isabelle sighed. The promise of candy bars was a tempting one. "I"ll be there in a minute with my answers."

* * *

><p><strong>Isabelle really is obsessed with candy, isn't she? ;) Yet she's still fit...<strong>

**Anyways, sorry for the short chapter. I've lost a lot of motivation for this story. I haven't completely lost motivation though. I'm not sure if I'll continue it. If you guys want me to continue, say so in the reviews. Don't want to let anyone down if they liked this story.**

**OK, I do realize that I'll probably be horribly embarrassed when I get one or two reviews, but whatevs! ;)**

**So, yeah...That's it, I guess. If you liked this, I have a few other humor one-shots for TID and another TMI one-shot, though that one isn't humor. So check those out in your spare time! XD**

**Signing off,**

**Marie E. Brooke**


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